All I wish Is
by shotgunserenade
Summary: The War is over and the Wizarding World is returning to normal, Gilderoy Lockhart has also returned to normality after his incarceration at St.Mungo's but can he prove to his doting public he's a changed man?
1. Chapter 1

"Bless you, he doesn't get all too many visitors. I don't suppose he will after You Know Who's defeat at the School. So many hospitalised and even more, well, you know. What did you say your name was, Dear? _Alohomora"_

"It's Marguerite."

"Very unusual, Muggle name, is it?"

"Yes, my Mother is a Muggle."

"Ah, very pretty all the same. Gilderoy, Sweetheart. You have a Visitor." The Healer shuffled forwards, a warm smile on her face." There we go, he's up."

A man, the only one in the room rubbed his eyes sleepily. "Oh gosh, another fan. Rather busy these days, aren't I?"

The Witch named Marguerite took residence in the armchair beside the man's bed.

"Well then, I'll give you some privacy." The Healer directed a motherly look in their direction. "Just doing my rounds, just meet me at the Nurses station when your done and I'll sign you out." The Healer raised her wand and gave it a slight swish and the curtain around the bed decided to move around the rail.

As the door clicked Gilderoy Lockhart broke the heavy silence and turned his attentions to present company. "One of my biggest admirers you know." He nodded towards the door. "Just wish I could remember why..." His smile faltered as his broken mind tried it's best to figure out why. When it simply couldn't he award winning grin reformed " Have we met?"

The Witch gave him a small nod. "Yes, although I haven't seen you in a long while, Professor."

Lockhart looked perplexed yet mildly fascinated. "Professor, eh?" A thoughtful hand rubbed his chin.

For a moment the Witch said nothing but removed from her dress robe and 11" oak wand with dual unicorn hair. "_Muffliato._" She then brought the wand to the temple of the previous Defence against the Dark Arts Professor and whispered an inaudible incantation.

In that instant Gilderoy Lockhart's face change from one look of dozy complacency to that of confusion. "W-what did you do?" He queried as he rubbed his eyes and nipped the bridge of his nose hard. Images flashed behind his eyes. Names, faces, places, a bank of repressed memories suddenly sprung to life dying to remembered. "What have you done?" He demanded once more, though he struggled to voice the question due to his laboured breathing and pounding head.

The Witch's eyes fixed on his. "I repaired your mind. Something the Healers of this Hospital haven't had the time to do, especially of late." She stood up and edged to the bed. Wand still casually rested against his temple "However, without the second part of the incantation the moment I remove my wand your mind will return to it's previous dependant, blathering state." Marguerite took one of Lockhart's hands in her own.

"I-I do know you, don't I?" He questioned, like he hadn't heard a word she'd just said. "Why do I know you?"

"Later, Professor, Now, I know this is difficult but you need to concentrate. There you go. Look at me now. I want you to regain your mind, Professor. All I ask is..."

Gilderoy Lockhart concentrated on her and agreed whim's and terms despite the mental turmoil his mind was under. Some of her terms were audacious, and essentially rendered his previous life useless. Which was most likely the idea, he would have argued, but he missed this feeling of sanity, of coherent thoughts. You never really knew what you had until you lost it...

_KNOCK KNOCK._ "Mr. Lockhart!" _KNOCK KNOCK._ "Mr. Lockhart, its Iggy, Sir. I'm here for your wakeup call!"

Groggily he muttered a response and the Barman's footsteps gradually faded away. Lockhart found himself awaking in one of the more destitute rooms of the _Drake and Wyrm_. A new pub built to rival the legacy of the _Leaky Cauldron_. It might have been newer, but it certainly captured the Cauldron's grotty panache. A bright light filled his eyes; the pub just happened to be down the road from _Weasley Wizarding Wheezes,_ a shop in which he quickly grew bored of its eccentric and bold front.

Drawing away from the over the top magic in his reality, Gilderoy thought back to the dream he'd had. Well the dream of his memory. That night he suddenly regained his sanity. After 5 years of no improvement and no counter spell effective enough to bring him round for more than an hour at a time his mind appeared to have just "sorted it out". It baffled Healers of all degrees. An apparent miracle and after all the admissions from the war no one questioned it or the Girl that visited him on the ward that afternoon. Not that she could be found.

3 weeks of careful observations, he was cleared with a clean bill of health and left _St. Mungo's_ to be re integrated back into society. Harry Potter and friends, Heroes. Voldemort dead. Dumbledore dead, at least the man had had the foresight to leave Gilderoy a nice healthy compensation in his vault, in fact lots of people dead. Mostly Death Eaters mind you. _Hogwarts_ was falling down around the few students and fewer staff. The _Ministry_ in tatters, _Gringotts_ ravaged by dragons, it took forever to get that pay from his Vault due to the tracks being destroyed. It was general chaos not a nice way to be welcomed back, not that he was really at all. Not until the hype about the war had died down. Then he was big news. Witch Weekly had offered another contract with him, and his publishers, given him a new manager. But that was two years ago now and he still had to see his therapist once a week.

After his mind wrenching tangent, Gilderoy thought back to St. Mungo's and more specifically the Witch who'd saved him. He hoped he would always remember her. That sleek black hair, oval face, alabaster skin, a mass of freckles and moles, not to mention those eyes. He'd never spoken about her to anyone, one of her terms. But she was constantly in his thoughts, Marguerite.

"_You can never tell anyone about what we've spoken about, Professor."_

"_But how will I find you? Thank you?"_

_She smiled genuinely at him but something about it was bitter. "You won't it's not in your nature."_

"_But!"_

_She shook her head, and paused his speech with her lips. "Enough, I'll finish the incantation now..."_

Lockhart swung his legs out of the warm bed, immediately regretting it. Shivering he forced himself to move and pulled his bed robe tighter around him. The cold floorboards creaked under foot as he made his way to his trunk. Snapping his fingers, it unlocked and the lid flipped back. He rummaged for the mirror and his morning ritual began. He prodded his face, eyed his hair. His locks were lifeless, a dirty blonde, he had huge, dark bags under his eyes and pale blotchy skin. Admittedly his younger self would laugh and poke fun and his hideous appearance but he had much more to worry about.

One of those worries thundered through the door, making light work of the locking charm he'd placed on it to keep it out.

"Gilderoyyyyy!" A sing songy voice blasted into the room, anything not bolted or charmed down shook with the noise. "Merlin's beard, man! Why aren't you dressed yet?"

Flo Beoran was a vivacious Witch. 5Ft tall a topped with flaming red hair and bright alert eyes. Most of the time she was suffocating and insufferable but Lockhart had a soft spot for his Manager for some insane reason.

"Laziness is counterproductive, Gilderoy. Plus that Skeeter woman is waiting downstairs with her new lackey, I mean, intern waiting for you. Editor in chief for The Quibbler, indeed. Hasn't been the same since Lovegood." She sighed, pausing momentarily. The War and its causalities was still raw for everyone. Almost everyone, except Lockhart himself, personally he didn't care that much. He wasn't in right mind when it happened and that sense of unity wasn't felt by him when he left Mungo's. "Well then you lazy sod, get dressed. I'm giving you 10 minutes. Lots to do and not enough time in the day, maybe I should apply for a time turner. Would you just look at you! Oh well, I suppose sympathy points is better than nothing."

She left the room with that and Lockhart shrunk back onto the bed, mirror in hand. It was like taking a physical beating being in Flo's company. Despite being 10 years his junior Flo acted like his mother, dressed like her too. She always had a fascination with Muggle clothing too. It was probably why he didn't find her attractive. Not the way she dressed, just the fact she dressed like his mother. He saw her in Flo every time and it scared him into giving up any fleeting thoughts about her.

Lockhart ran a hand through his hair out of sheer habit, something he used to do in his younger days that always got the hearts of many a housewife and school girl racing. Now it was a reminder about his past and how his life came crumbling down during his time at Hogwarts. Looking back, in hindsight, he could see that taking the Defence against the Dark Arts post was in his poorer judgement. _Get close to Potter_, he remembered thinking, _the boy will boost your popularity_. In the end all it did reveal his fraudulent behaviour and precarious past.

Of course, despite the hard falls and months initially living in his mother's old house Lockhart had found help in Flo. The only Personal Organiser in the Wizarding world willing to take on this lucrative and downright conniving man. Eventually anyway, she took a lot of convincing in his miraculous change in character. Something Gilderoy cringed about every time he was forced to remember his humiliation. Now he was back to writing, something he found comfort in, surprisingly. As a Wizard he may have fallen short, but as a writer he excelled. Despite what Rita Skeeter was determined to think. Bloody scavenger with a quick quotes quill, she wasn't the writer, he was. He finally dragged himself of the bed and forced his way back to his trunk; eventually Lockhart was dressed and ready to face the world. Except for Skeeter. He opened the door to his room and made his way down the cavernous hallways, more than once he'd gotten lost. They all looked the same. The same 17th centaury wallpaper and 17th centaury carpets. The same small lopsided windows and large irregular doors, the same tables that littered the hallways with replica's of the same vases sitting on each one. The few differences that he did notice were the badly charmed numbers on the doors and the assortments of Witches and Wizards that emerged from them.

Somehow he found his way down his last staircase and plastered the award winning grin falsely onto his face. Some heads turned from the creaking of the staircase and immediately turned back to what they were doing previously. Usually drinking themselves into oblivion. The room itself looked rather clean and fancy in comparison to the rest of the pub. High ceiling with French decor, Panelled walls and an assortment of marbled booths and polished wooden tables. Clearly someone was a Muggle Connoisseur.

"Lockhart, dear, what a pleasant surprise." The shrilly pitch of Rita Skeeter's voice reached Lockhart's ears momentarily he flinched. He looked round to see her emerging from one of the booths, notebook in one hand and Butterbeer in the other.

"Not at all Rita, my dear woman. You knew I was here you cheeky minx." He winked at her, and outstretched his hand, taking her own spindly one its grasp.

"You know me, Lockhart. You know me." She blushed, turning her face away in a falsified embarrassment. Indeed I do, grimaced Lockhart internally. He hand retracted and she looked at the Author. "How about a statement for the Quibbler? You know pre press before your launch?"

She was straight in, no beating around the bush with this one. "Now, now, Rita. You know all press release runs through my magnificent manager." He motioned to Flo, who looked like she was about ready to leap on Skeeter. She had one hand white knuckled around her mug, her face flushed red in anger. The poor intern Skeeter had brought along looked terrified of the Witch.

He mouth lifted into an amused smirk. "Surely you can give me a tinsy little something, without your Boggart biting?" She gestured with her fingers while giving Lockhart a coy look.

He gave her a hearty chuckle. "Persistent as ever, Rita. However, I simply can't. If you have any questions I would be most delighted to answer them in Flourish and Blotts later." Lockhart swerved around Rita and made toward Flo who was already on her feet. "And this is?" Motioning to the frightened Witch cowering the booth.

"Carmella Waites. I Just graduated from Hogwarts last year, ." The trembling intern outstretched her hand. Lockhart took it, and kissed it lightly. The Witch looked taken aback.

"An absolute pleasure to meet you . Now then, shall we go, Flo? Lots to do, not enough time."

Flo nodded, taking Lockhart by the arm and leading him away like a child. "Indeed. Ms. Waites. Rita." She almost spat the word out as they avoided the reporter, he quick quotes quill hovering expectantly about the page.

"See you later sir!" Waved Iggy the barman. Lockhart nodded his head towards him as they left the pub.

"I hope that woman gets on the wrong side of the security troll." Hissed Flo, enraged. "Now come one. My schedule is ruined."

They made their way out into Diagon alley to start the day.


	2. Chapter 2

"Are you ready yet? You know, you really don't help yourself" Queried a tiring Flo, as she pushed the heavy curtain back.

Lockhart straightened up his cravat, pouting as it drooped to one side once more. "I'm just making sure everything is perfect my dear, Flo and I simply don't know what you mean by that last remark."

The redhead sighed and stomped her way over to the author, pointing her wand towards his throat more than the cravat. With a slight flick the material straightened itself out. " The point isn't to be perfect, Gilderoy, it's to be yourself. Although fifty minutes in _Cut's and Curses _is too much yourself." She rubbed off imaginary flint from his shoulders, and took his hands. He flinched under her dainty hands, and her sudden and surprising bout of compassion.

She cleared her throat and moved away. "Right come on then, best not keep them waiting any longer. The publishers are going to have my head if you are not on that shop floor within the next minute"

"Right of course."

Lockhart strolled out gracefully from behind the heavy drape, purposefully stealing the lime light in order for Flo to slip out unnoticed. He cleared his throat and a tide of excited chattering erupted in the bookshop. A variety of Witches harped in joy as their ruggedly handsome Author drew their attention. Not to mention warbles of scepticism from media and the odd scholar

Lockhart leant gracefully against the back of the chair, directing as smile to each individual. "Welcome, welcome, my friends." A wink towards the nearest house wife.

"We are all gathered here today, a momentous day I might add, to rejoice in the release of my new, conquest." A few dirty laughs.

"I would like to thank you all, from the bottom of my heart for being here. You have no idea just how much it means." His eyes swept the room, each pair that looked back at him was enraptured. He quickly skimmed past Rita in the reporters section who was eyeing him up almost hungrily. "I humbly apologise from the bottom of my heart." A snigger, probably from Skeeter, he cleared his throat. "For my untimely lateness, it was truly unpredictable and as an apology you may all have a half price discount from my next book in the making; _Through the Wilderness: Arggie Paw_. A greatly compelling read, if I do say so myself." That caught their attentions." My manager would be more than happy to take your details after I sign your copies of "_Severed Wings: A Harpies Tail_."" Flo had jabbed him in his spinal discs for the second times. She was clearly annoyed. She then stepped forward, locking her arm around the Authors'. It was almost comical, the two extremes in personality, size, everything opposed. However, it was easy to see who was in charge.

Flo put forward her best public voice. "Now does anyone have any more questions for Mr Lockhart before he begins signing?"

The whole of _Flourish and Blotts_ exploded. Arms and voices raised. The loudest of all was Rita Skeeter.

"Mr Lockhart, Rita Skeeter, _Quibbler_." Like anyone in that room didn't know who she was. She was possibly more conniving and self serving than Lockhart himself. " Speculation has it you had problems with your sources. As a writer myself, it's imperative your material is solid and thorough. Care to clear up this mishap?"

Lockhart grinned. "Why Miss Skeeter, how bold of you. Are you implying by any chance I cheated my most beloved sources? Of course not, without them there would be no books, and without books what kind of society would be? Ms Waites, I see your hand is raised."

The intern squirmed under the pressure of the room and the glares from her superior. "Mr Lockhart, how does it feel to be writing again after such a long hiatus?"

Gilderoy forced himself to stand still. "Absolutely fabulous. Writing is where I belong Ms Waites and hopefully when your curious mind finds its way at the end of my book you'll feel the same."

More hands went up, the press and the public were aggressively competing for his attention. "Roland Fleet, _Witch Weekly._ Have you ever thought about turning yourself to fiction, Mr Lockhart?"

Lockhart broke out into a small, staged chuckle. "Have you been reading my mind, Sir?" The man shook his head intrigued, quill to paper. "My wonderful manager and myself thought it would be a most informed direction. "He looked at Flo who looked utterly dazed. "I believe we decided upon a high octane romance series." Flo nodded enthusiastically. "Unfortunately, that is a much that is on the drawing boards and is available for press release." A mass of disgruntled aws amassed from the crowd. "Worry not, I will work tirelessly to bring it to your inquisitive minds and eager eyes."

This seemed to appease the information monster within the crowd and after a couple of mundane questions, Flo had Gilderoy behind a desk with his lucky quill and the crowd lined up. The reporters either queued or left the book store. The signing strained his wrist and his smile, he had to remind himself how long was left before he could be sat back in his room in his slippers and a hot f_irewhiskey._

"I'm a big fan, Mr lockhart." His next in line. He tended not to take note of the their faces but her voice was familiar, very soft, very quiet. "All I've wished for is the opportunity to meet you."

Those word made his skin prickle. His eyes surveyed the area surrounding him and but a metre in front of him there she stood, the Witch that had saved his life. Had she come to check he was sticking to her rules and his new lifestyle?

_All I wish is you give those old ways to cling to. No more memories charms. No cheating your sources, treat them respectfully and rightfully. Have you ever thought of writing fiction, Professor? You should. Do I have any thing else? Of course. I want you to become the man I know you should be. Until then, I will be watching you, Professor. Don't look at me like that, it's for your own good. Now, focus... _

"Mr Lockhart are you okay?" She leant forward in concern, that ample bosom of hers on show to him only.

"Nothing that need concern you Dear, simply the gait of a writers ticking mind. Whom do I make this to?" He shook his head and the façade resumed, like magic and just in time. Flo noticed his prolonged pause. He took the book from her hands being careful not to touch her skin.

The Witch directed a warm smile his way. "Daisy Telleux." The name was clearly a false one but he didn't need her name to recognise that face.

"A very pretty name for a very pretty woman." He flirted harmlessly as the quill danced among the page, but not before he slyly removed the note hidden expertly in the spine of the book.

"You flatter me! But I appreciate your kind words. It's been a pleasure finally seeing you in person. If only I could have you undivided attention for longer." She sighed, taking the leather bound book back and crutching it fondly to her chest.

"Truly sorry but my attention can not be focused one but all."

"Then I suppose the gracious minute I've had of your time will have to suffice. Thank you, but I guess I have to move on. "She leant forward again to whisper in his ear. His eyes focusing on anything but her face. "I fear if I stay any longer that the little old housewife behind me will bat bogey hex me into the next millennium." She briefly touched his hand and then disappeared into the crowd and with the sound of the bell above the door into the streets of _Diagon Alley_.

Somehow the rest of the signing blurred and Lockhart found himself sitting in the Drake and Duck with Flo, sitting in a hidden booth drinking a well earned beverage.

"Gilderoy, Gilderoy! Thank you. What's up with you, you've been unusually quiet all afternoon. Was it that fan in _Flourish and Blotts_?"

Gilderoy pouted. "The housewife? I know she looked a little a shrivelled mandrake but-"

Flo cut him off. "No, not her. Ms, I'm your biggest fan and have great boobs. Did she give you her number?"

He looked puzzled.

"She just looks the type to be into all that muggle technology. I have a mobiled phone myself. Can't use the bloody thing though, much prefer Owl." She took a sip from her tankard and wiped the foam from her mouth.

"Oh no, she didn't." He had looked at the note repeatedly, _Meet me at Kings Cross, 11pm, don't be late, Professor. XXX _ He couldn't decide whether he should go or how he should go about it. Was it in hisobligation to go? After all she hadn't just saved his life, she'd give him a new one. But he hadn't made a name for himself through naïve promises and rendezvous with lovelorn school girls. The again it wasn't much of a name had made in the end.

"That's a shame, I bet she'd sort you out in every way you need too." Flo sighed and pushed back her red hair out of her eyes. She then gulped the last of the butterbeer out of the tankard and slammed the thing down on the wooden table.

He curled his lip in mock disgust. "You Miss Beoran have a terrible mind. Utterly disgusting."

She stuck her tongue out. "And you, Gilderoy Lockhart need a life. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm off the clock and off for a date. Try not to ruin my career while I'm gone and don't stay up too late. You know how cranky you get when you don't have time curl your hair." She slid out of the booth patted the author in a patronising manner on the head and stood up.

He smiled playfully "By not ruining your career does that involve telling that dashing suitor you ate the past three "dates" and still read the _Beedle and The Bard _before bed every night you get the chance. Unless your, busy, of course."

"You really are a debonair. Goodnight Gilderoy." She grinned back and walked out of his company straight into that of a tall, blonde intelligent looking wizard.

It took all of a minute and an extra _firewhiskey_ more for Lockhart to decide he was going to King's Cross.


	3. Chapter 3

I don't know why, but I felt the need to write again, which is why I'm up on a college night til one in the morning typing the blasted thing. It'll probably look crap when I come back to it tomorrow of sound mind... Oh well, enjoy!

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><p>The taxi pulled up outside of the station, Lockhart peered out into the bustling night, more than a little hesitant. It was like a sea of people and noise. Constantly moving, never resting.<p>

"That'll be forty quid mate." The taxi driver coughed, peering over to the back seat where the strangely dressed man sat.

Gilderoy was getting cold feet, seriously cold feet, he had his hand rested inside of his outer jacket on the lucky quill. His heart was pounding in his ears, sounds blurred under the pulse of it.

"Excuse me, but I have people waiting outside." The man was right of course, someone was banging on the taxi window. The Author cleared his throat and reached into an inside pocket throwing a wad of notes at the taxi driver as he opened the car door. "Don't you want you-" The door shut and Lockhart disappeared from view. The taxi driver stroked his moustache perplexed and shook his head in disbelief as his next client hopped in the back.

He took out the note and read it and reread it despite knowing it's exact contents and style. The curves and slants of the letters, the way the ink splotched when the X curved off. He stood just outside of the station entrance People fled around him like a shoal of fish. Not even taking notice of his extravagant outfit. So so the people of London. He turned round to view the clock atop the station, three minutes to eleven. The piece of paper slid through and around his fingers against the bitter cold of the night. He shouldn't be there. He should be by himself being predictable with his whiskey. The poor conversation with barman, The poorer attempts of seduction by the drunken housewife escaping for three or so hours away from her Ministry husband. No he should be here. Right. His sworn duty. This woman saved his life. Or squandered it. Ignorance is bliss after all. He was certain he was quite happy being insane...in a mental ward... surrounded by other insane people... His head throbbed as he looked around catching himself trying to spot her paralleled with the thought he could run, now and she would never know.

He sighed, it was hopeless, the thought of what if, stopped him from leaving, from going "home".

A small warmth blushed in his right shoulder, he spun around and there she was. A sweep of black hair, the hat was missing obviously, a sleek wool coat that finished at her calves and teal scarf wrapped around her neck.

"Sorry I'm late." She huffed.

The words choked. "Not at all. I haven't been here long."

"How did you get here?"

"Uh..Taxi. Quite the odd muggle contraption"

She looked impressed. "I guess I cheated a little, floo powder.. We should get out of the cold, Professor."

His eyebrows furrowed. "Now hold on. I'm not going anywhere yet. Why have you come back, now? What is it exactly that you want." He shivered, teeth chattering.

She raised her hands in defence. "All in good time. Now lets get away from here, the nostalgia is making me sick." Marguerite grabbed onto his arm and led him away from the bustle of the station. Once they were out of view she disapparated the pair of them from the cold of autumn night.

"Where on earth are we?" He asked immediately, stomach knotted.

"As clichéd as it sounds my hotel room. I like a few home comforts when I'm visiting London. Diagon Alley just gets too much" She unwrapped her self, first the scarf, then the coat. She was still wearing the same dress that he saw her in at Flourish and Blotts. Marguerite sat down in one of two arm chairs. She guested to the other. Cautiously, he took of the mantle he was wearing and placed it around the back of the armchair. He'd never been in a muggle hotel before, it was certainly a step up from the sty he was living in. He couldn't really describe it, except from the fact that it was very symmetrical.

"Would you like anything to drink, eat?" This small talk just showed she was as nervous as he. Both of them stiffened and for a moment nothing was said, they just sat and observed each other. " So how are you then?"

"Fine." He froze, somehow those barriers he was so used to putting up just wouldn't stand.

"No problems with your memory?" She leaned forward, a band of hair fell over her collarbone, his eyes fell down and quickly retreated.

"None, but ah, I appreciate your concern. Are you-"

_"Are you alright?" The Professor charged towards the weeping girl, arms forcing the crowd apart. Of course the show was more for him than her. The audience of students clung to edge of hallways. _

_"Y-yes Professor." The girl hiccuped behind tears. He helped her to her feet as her friend collected her books and bag. _

_"Now what was all this nonsense about?" His acting was incredible, he actually looked concerned. _

_The dark haired Ravenclaw girl took her glasses off and rubbed at her eyes. She sighed, in an attempt to catch her breath. " It's nothing sir. Just a-a misunderstanding." She replaced her glasses but the tears still fell. _

_"It was some of the Second years, Professor." Her friend stood forward, clearly shook but a little more stable. "They just pounced on her, called her a Mu-Mud." Her voice hushed. "Mudblood. Then they said that the Heir of Slytherin would come for her next." The girl herself began to sob. " It was horrid, Sir. They all just laughed." _

_Lockhart sighed, he wasn't the Ravenclaw head of house but a sense of comradry compelled him to help her. "Go find Professor Flitwick and lead him back to my classroom, we shall be waiting there. Understood? Good" He put on his award winning smile as he led the girl away. The crowds dispersed, the drama over they went away to create their own rumours and stories._

_As they approached the classroom the Defence against the Darks Teacher spoke again. "What's your name Miss Ravenclaw?" _

_"Margeurite Theroux, sir." _

_"_Yes, I'm fine. As fine as I can anyway." She smiled again.

"So tell me exactly, what am I doing here?" No charming smile, no suave gestures.

For a fleeting moment she said nothing again and then she caught herself. The ex student shook her head. "Are you sure your memory is okay, Professor? Surely you can remember our conditions."

He coughed and brought a hand to his mouth. " Of course I remember. How could I not. As I remember you were very precise, no room for a little leniency."

"It was all for you own good, you know that. Besides, it saved you a lot of trouble, if you remember rightly." She nodded at him.

"Oh yes, only three weeks of persecution on the fabulous Mr Potter and Weasley's behalf. Do you have any idea how incredibly annoying it his to have twenty self destructing howlers in one day?"

"Not quite on that scale, but I'm quite accustomed to a howler or two. I remember waking up to them at the foot of my bed, especially after Valentines day."

"Yes, that was a particularly gruesome one as I recall, sent by thirty girls in the lower years wasn't it?" He recollected thoughtfully.

"Yes, the lines from the first years were especially vicious. My owl slept in my room for the rest of the year after it. Poor Tilly was getting stressed after being charmed pink."

They both let out a snort which escalated into full blown laughter. Once it had subsided, Marguerite's face straightened as if she had just remembered what she was doing was wrong. Her Brother was right, maybe this was just a silly fantasy. An adventure, trial, but one that would eventually fail. Why was she trying to help a man that had let her and everyone he'd ever encountered down so much? Probably because she was a silly dreamer.

"We should probably get started, no doubt your manager will worry if you're missing too long." She frowned slightly, it was this part that made her hate herself most.


	4. Chapter 4

__This time I'm introducing more of the back story, don't worry I'll get back Lockhart in the next chapter!

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><p><em>"<em>_I hope you're okay Maggie, can't imagine what it was like being locked up with that banal idiot." Cissy Wormwood patted her on the shoulder in mock sympathy. _

"_It wasn't that bad Cissy, Professor Flitwick wasn't long at all." Marguerite sniffed, nurturing a mug of hot chocolate in the Ravenclaw common room. _

"_Yeah well, Adelaide should have had the balls to do something." She pouted; clearly annoyed she wasn't there to bash some heads together. "I mean they were only second years, so what if one was a Malfoy. They all crumple to the ground the same way if you kick 'em right._

"_Don't you dare blame me Cecilia Wormwood. It doesn't matter who they were or the year; it was a big group and only the two of us. We are both scared witless as it is and it caught us off guard." Adelaide Broom forced her cat Trixie off her lap so she could confront her friend. " You act tough but you're as scared as the rest of us. To think a monster is worming it's way around the school picking us off one by one and Dumbledore can't do anything to stop it." _

"_It's not Salazar Slytherin's monster that's got me irked. It's our own snake in the grass that's using the school as his publicity stunt." Cissy rolled her eyes. She was taking Defence against the dark arts and hadn't actually used her wand in about a month. _

"_You're just pissed he won't give you the time of day" She threw herself back down on the throw cushion she was sat on, Trixie quickly returning to the warmth of her lap. _

" _He ought to the money I've spent on that poser's books. " She kicked her legs over the armchair and sunk into it, examining a scroll haphazardly. "My mum is working two jobs so she and my dad can eat this year because of that loser. Even second hand they are twice as much as a decent Defence book."_

"_Well you choose to keep the lesson."_

"_How was I meant to know I was being taught it by the most evil wizard of all time?"_

"_You weren't, but you know the lesson is cursed." _

"_Phooey. Besides, you can't become and Auror without it." _

"_Who'd want you to become an Auror anyway? You can't save yourself let alone anyone else. Plus your charms are terrible." _

"_I don't want to charm bad guys, I want them locked up." _

"_You suck."_

"_You'd know." _

_Marguerite grumbled they were constantly like this. Like cat and mouse. Cissy was a blonde, Addy brunette. Cissy liked newts, Addy cats. Cissy was a great spell caster; Addy was more inclined to writing. Well you get the idea. Opposites were meant to attract and in a way they did. Like tectonic plates or matter and dark matter. Both were breathing heavily, the argument apparently over and done with for now. _

"_I can't concentrate." Cissy threw her scroll to the floor and rubbed her eyes. The rest of the Common room was thinning out, tired from another day of terror and fear. "Snape's gonna have my head." _

_Adelaide stroked Trixie behind the ear. "He would anyway. You can look at mine tomorrow at breakfast if it's any help."_

_Cissy looked down at her friend. "Cheers mate, I appreciate it. Hey, Maggie you're awfully quite. Don't let those stupid kids get to you. Flitwick's given 'em detention for the week. They shouldn't bother you again." _

_Marguerite shook her head. "It's nothing, I'm just worried about Marcoh. He's been getting his share of harsh words too. He's just so rash… I'm worried that…" She trailed off, placing her mug down on the floor, _

"_Don't worry about Marcoh, he's impulsive, not stupid. Despite popular belief Gryffindor's actually have some sense. Besides he won't hesitate to smack that Malfoy kid upside the head if he tries anything." Adelaide reassured, reaching over to pat her on the knee. _

"_Addy's right, and if you're that worried, talk to Flitwick, or Mcgonagall. Now you, off to bed." Cissy jumped up and ushered the bespectacled girl up the stairs to the dormitory. Marguerite wondered if she should send an owl home, then again her parent's always panicked when a School Owl crashed into the kitchen window… Deciding to leave it she went to bed writing it off a crappy day. _

"Hey, Maggie, you okay? You spaced out there." She looked up at her brother, his eyes narrowed with concern.

"Yeah, I'm sorry Marcoh. I guess I'm just a little out of it."

"Wait there, I'll put the kettle on." Her brother stood up and left his hand her shoulder for a minute before retreating to the kitchen. She sunk back into the sofa and closed her eyes once more. It had been happening a lot recently. Her mind would go into over drive and she would remember that year. She had loads more to worry about, her hexed brother, muggle sister, missing parents. But for some reason moments of the year repeated in her head and Marguerite just couldn't stay away from that man no matter how hard she tried. It was painful for her to keep doing this to herself and her family, yet she couldn't help that feeling of elation we she caught his eye. His attention. She hadn't been home long, maybe an hour. She apparated back after work, It wasn't her strong point but the floo network was over run, other people desperate to get home to their families. 3 days in London, 3 in an office in her hometown. She was tired, but so long as it helped the family, she couldn't complain.

"Anne will be home from school soon." Marcoh stated as he returned with that sweet nectar.

She took the tea graciously and took a long gulp; her brother shook his head at her ability to drink anything as hot as that. She made sure he could see her mouth before she spoke. "How's she doing?"

He shrugged, "She's 16, go figure. I think she's a little worried about exams. I told her I'd help but she refused. Apparently my grasp on potions isn't needed in a maths exam."

She laughed, he was obviously feeling better, or at least he seemed it. Marguerites face straightened. "How's your ear?"

He self-consciously touched it, pushing those soft curls out of the way to show her. Marcoh turned his head away. "They buzz, it's annoying but that balm you left me seems to be working a little."

Marguerite sighed out loud. Marcoh was involved in the Wizarding war, he'd decided to stay behind and offer himself as front line protection allowing those who couldn't fight to flee. One of the Death Eaters picked him out because he looked like an ex of hers. She cursed his ears. He was almost deaf and had a grotesquely large spider web scar in its place as a reminder. He hasn't picked up his wand in two years and hadn't set foot anywhere near the Wizarding world since he left 's. For the most part her looked after Annabella their youngest sister and only non-magical child out of the three of them. He also worked in a supermarket to keep up with bills. Sickles and Knuts wouldn't satisfy the landlord.

"How was work?" He pushed on a little too quickly, letting his hair fall back and supping tea hastily almost burning his mouth out, he didn't have his sister's gift of drinking molten lava.

"Slow, but nice. I went to the Ministry too, they haven't heard anything about Mum and Dad. You should come with me next time, it's easier to work when everything is there within reach." She tried to encourage him. Constantly, he would never bite.

He shook his head, his eyes saddened at her suggestion. "Sorry Sis, it's too early for that. I'm not ready to set foot back there."

"But people miss you there, Marcoh! Miss Jenkins has been asking about you for months, Olivia from Cut's and Curses asks about you every time she's in and then there is Addy-"

Marcoh stopped her, snapping a little. "Don't, Maggie, just don't. I don't want to hear about it, pardoning the pathetic pun."

Defeated, but Marguerite had to look him in the eye. "She just wants to talk."

He slammed the mug down on the coffee table. "Don't even, I'm warning you. Get off my back about Addy and I won't start about you and him." He frowned the lines in his face deepened, his face flushed red.

Marguerite puffed her cheeks, she hated to argue with him but he was so un-bloody-reasonable. "That's entirely different!"

He crossed his arms and gave her and 'oh really?' look. Just as if queued the door opened and slammed shut.

"Maggie, you here?" The voice echoed in the hallway.

"Yeah Anna, I'm home. Stop your shouting." She sighed, wincing at the slam of the door.

The youngest Theroux entered the living room and walked over to her brother, giving him a hug. " I thought you were working today?" She asked him when she was in his eye line.

"I just finished early, had to get back to get some work done" It was a lie, Anna didn't' question it.

The youngest Theroux was the only one who looked completely like her mother. Auburn curled hair, petite but curved and the longest eyelashes. Marcoh was a mix of both but Marguerite was her father's daughter alright.

She threw herself down on the sofa next to her older sister and grinned. "Tell me about London! " She begged.

Maggie laughed. "Well, once upon a time-"


End file.
